Intruder Ch. 08

After deflowering Zoë Ziegler so vigorously, with payment from her own mother for the deed, I spent over three weeks fucking Katrina Ziegler by day and raping her daughter by night. Zoë always retained her defiance every time I took her, struggling like a feral cat before succumbing to my thrusts and the involuntary pleasure they gave her. She took to locking her bedroom door and sleeping in different rooms to try and evade me, all without success -- she even tried to knee me in the nuts once, after which I anger-raped her with extra ferocity -- and over time her physical resistance began to wear away. I made sure to wear my ski mask every time I attacked Zoë, but couldn't be totally sure she hadn't figured out who I was, or rather who I was pretending to be. In the daytime, Zoë walked around looking far more subdued than her usual self, not even interested in the fact that she was still grounded, and therefore a prisoner in the house at the mercy of her night-time rapist.

Katrina on the other hand was in very high spirits thanks to me. She was even more cock hungry than Zoë's best friend Maria. Two years is a long time to go without a real man's cock inside you, and when I wasn't busy raping her daughter, Katrina had me every time she was able to get me alone. She hadn't had the slightest misgivings about paying me to rape and impregnate her own daughter, and still didn't weeks afterwards; she even laughed when I told her how I anger-raped Zoë after she tried to knee me between the legs.

"Good thing you showed the little brat who's boss, huh?" she remarked flippantly, "Now how about you come over here and show me who's boss?"

I was now carefully considering how long this could go on for. Zoë's spirit was dampened by the nightly physical and sexual subjugation she had to undergo, but hardly broken. She was very unlikely to accept my dominance over her, even with the humiliating experience of being forced to orgasm during every rape, and might try something drastic to make me stop. I didn't want to have to injure her, but I would be forced to if she tried to stab me or ambush me in some way in retaliation for my crimes against her bodily integrity. I may be a rapist, but I do have the honesty to admit to myself that what I do is against the law and usually against my victim's wishes.

I was also beginning to doubt Katrina's motives in all this. Such was Katrina's quasi-sadistic disregard for her own daughter's well-being that I seriously wondered whether she wasn't really setting me up for something. It didn't seem likely that she would go to all the trouble of recruiting me to rape her daughter just to turn me over to the police, especially given that I could and would implicate her in recruiting me to do so if I were ever caught, to say nothing of the abysmally low conviction rates for rape across the United States. Still, it wouldn't hurt to take a few precautions whilst I set up my exit plan.

In any case, I wanted to see my favourite rape victim again. Leah had been the first victim of mine with whom I had stayed for any period of time, and was certainly the first with whom I had developed any sort of attachment. She had come to accept my domination of her body in a way that stoked my masculine instincts to invigorating heights. She didn't fight me every step of the way as Zoë did, a perfectly understandable reaction in any woman, but neither was she a drooling slave eager to be humiliated. She was a free-willed woman; and, more importantly, she was my woman.

Furthermore, I cared about all my children, but only in an abstract way given that I had never met them or provided anything to them beyond remotely sabotaging their mothers' efforts to have them aborted as well as depositing my DNA inside their mothers' to get the ball rolling in the first place. But spending such a length of time with one such mother-to-be, who had never taken the opportunity to run away or slit my throat in the middle of the night, made me feel genuinely attached to her and the child she carried. Indeed, I actually felt responsible for her well-being. I had to go back soon and check up on her.

***

It was near the end of October and I lay on a deck chair in the shadow of the Ziegler mansion, enjoying the early autumn weather. The glorious California sun was slowly fading towards the west, casting a tranquil orange haze over the horizon, and a light breeze wafted through the air. Zoë was inside, perhaps barricading herself inside her bedroom in preparation for the next rape. Katrina, meanwhile, was outside with me, flaunting her swimming skills in the party pool for me to see. She was pretty agile in the water and clearly enjoyed it more than jogging round the neighbourhood. I considered stripping off and ambushing her in the water, but ultimately decided to just watch for now.

Eventually, Katrina finished her swimming exercises and climbed out of the pool, grabbing a towel and drying herself off as she approached me. She was wearing a deliciously skimpy two piece swimsuit, the kind one usually sees on swimwear models, and my manhood rose to attention at the sight of it, as did I.

"Is that a horse cock in your pants, or are you just pleased to see me?" Katrina Ziegler quipped with a prurient smile.

I approached her and manfully grabbed her waist, pulling her in towards me and kissing her hungrily. She dropped the towel and held my head in response as our tongues intertwined, slipping a hand down, and grabbing a handful of my ass as we kissed. After a few moments Katrina broke off the kiss.

"It's getting late," she murmured, "and I still need to pay you for fucking Zoë last night."

As I followed Katrina back to the house I couldn't help but notice that she no longer looked as toned as before. She still strutted with a model's body, but her toned abs had faded considerably over the past few weeks, and there was more flesh visible on her hips and waist. Not that she looked fat, far from it. She just looked fleshier; more statuesque; more...womanly. As we walked into the kitchen, Katrina surprised me by opening the fridge, pulling out some yoghurt, and devouring the entire pack. She was clearly no longer on any kind of diet.

"Not worried about your figure anymore?" I noted casually.

"Nope," was Katrina's laconic response, "besides, I'm gonna get really fat soon, anyway." She looked at me expectantly whilst I decrypted the meaning behind this statement.

"Are you...pregnant?" I ventured.

"Congratulations, Einstein. You're gonna be a daddy." Katrina announced, tossing the empty yoghurts into the rubbish bin.

"Oh, I thought that..." I began tentatively.

"That I was all dried up in there?" Katrina unilaterally finished my sentence, "well, apparently not, handy he-man. And statistically speaking, dumping a pint of cum in a woman's pussy every day for a month straight makes you more likely to give that woman a swollen belly. Do the math and don't be surprised at the numbers you get."

"No, I meant I thought you didn't want any more kids." I corrected her.

"Well, they're a pain to look after when they hit their teens, sure." Katrina conceded, "But despite what I may have said before, there's nothing more amazing than feeling a life grow inside you, and seeing that life emerge from your body. It's the one thing that unites all of womankind: motherhood. I haven't been a very good mom to Zoë, but maybe now we'll have a chance to start over, by going through the same experience together."

Katrina's voice grew softer as she spoke, and she looked almost wistful as she explained this to me, even though I had to suppress a laugh when she made the spectacular understatement of admitting that she wasn't a particularly good parent to Zoë. But there was genuinely maternal compassion in her voice this time; did she regret contracting me to rape her daughter?

"Is Zoë pregnant too then?" I asked after a pause.

"Yep, missed her period just like me," Katrina confirmed, "she probably hasn't noticed yet, too scared of you to pay attention, but I've known her since the minute she was born; you've given me a second kid and grandkid in one go."

I paused in thought for a while, contemplating with virile pride the fact that I had now sired 54 children. Maria had called me up last week to confirm that she was pregnant, and to feign annoyance at the fact that it was my fault as well as to threaten to pursue me for child support, as if she needed the money, interspersed with sultry invitations to come back. She had also been happy to gossip about the fact that her parents were having another baby, apparently failing to notice the extraordinary coincidence in these two events. I couldn't be totally certain that I was the father of Maria's unborn sibling, but I could always come back in a year to confirm.

"Unless you're deciding whether to fuck me on the counter or on the floor, I suggest you come and collect your cash, daydreamer." Katrina abruptly interrupted my thoughts.

I followed her out of the kitchen and through the house, still thinking on the move. I had accomplished my original MILF hunt and successfully fathered at least three, potentially four, new illegitimate children -- I didn't like calling them bastards -- and even though it had not gone quite accordingly to plan, it had been a very stimulating adventure. But now, it was time to leave. I would take the money and run, keeping tabs on my victims in the months to come.

I followed Katrina into her bedroom and shut the door. Unlike certain teenagers I had gotten to know, Ms Ziegler actually liked to put her clothes away when she wasn't wearing them. She had a queen sized bed just like Zoë, but it had actually been made, and the floor was devoid of clothing, making it a change from stepping around piles of laundry to get to somewhere. Katrina stripped off her swimsuit in front of me without embarrassment and put on a bathrobe.

"Your cash is in the bag over there." Katrina gestured to a supermarket shopping bag sitting on a chair in the corner of the room.

I walked over to the chair whilst Katrina went to the bathroom and opened up the bag, it was stuffed with bundles of cash in small denominations. Katrina returned from the bathroom and I didn't bother to turn round.

A click behind me froze me in my movements. Every soldier recognised that sound.

"Turn around, slowly." Katrina ordered menacingly. I did as I was told, calmly raising my hands in surrender as I did so.

Katrina Ziegler was still wearing a bathrobe, and had tied her dried off her hair into a neat bun behind her head. She was aiming a Smith and Wesson 686 squarely at my head.

"Sorry pal, but there's no place for a rapist in me and my daughter's future," said Katrina.

"So you finally decided it wasn't such a good idea to pay a guy to rape your own child?" I asked calmly. In comparison to what I had gone through in my service, a duplicitous cougar-mother aiming a pistol at me was far from terrifying. Still, that was no reason to get cocky.

"No, I don't regret that," explained Katrina, her gun hand steady from practice, "I really was at my wits end when I asked you to pop Zoë's cherry. But she'll end up the better for it, and her mom will be there to guide her every step of the way. I've thought about it long and hard, and this is the way it has to be."

"Well since I'm about to die, how exactly will this play out?" I asked casually.

"I shoot you; the gunshot wakes up Katrina who runs in to see that mommy's just gunned down the man who raped her. Then we call the cops and I explain how I found out you were raping my daughter and confronted you, you tried to strangle me and I shot you in self defence."

"So will you admit to sleeping with the pool guy or did he come visit you in the night too?" I continued to press for details, being already aware of at least one flaw in Katrina's dastardly scheme to mend fences with her daughter.

"I toyed with that idea," admitted Katrina, "but it'd be kinda hard to imagine a guy raping two women in the same house for weeks on end. So yeah, I'll have to admit that I was sleeping with the pool guy, only to discover that he was preying on my daughter as well. Once this whole mess is behind us, I'll admit to Zoë that I'm also pregnant but that I want to keep it. She'll want to abort hers and I'll talk her out of it by telling her that the baby's a spark of hope in the darkness of her trauma, or some bullshit like that."

"You honestly think that making her give birth to a rapist's child will be enough to persuade her to go to college?"

"I wasn't lying about what I told you downstairs," Katrina continued, genuine sincerity permeating her words, "the experience of motherhood unites all women; and when I hold my grandchild for the first time and show Zoë how beautiful he or she is, she'll realise how important it is to get a better life for herself in order to get a better life for her own child. And while she's at college, I can start over on being a better mom to Zoë's half sibling as well as Zoë's kid, and it will all be thanks to you."

"So I was just a walking sperm bank, is that it?"

"That's exactly what you were," Katrina confirmed, making me feel stung by her response, "not that I don't appreciate your help; in a lot of ways, yours is the most important contribution of all. But you're a guy; you'd never understand what it means to carry a life inside you, to spend hours delivering it into the world; although, if you're decent enough you might stick around to watch it grow into a person. My ex-husband lasted fifteen years before bailing out, and there was no one to support me except myself. Not this time though, Zoë and I will have each other, we'll have a picture-perfect future together with our respective kids, and I'm afraid there's no room for you in that picture. Plus, I can't have you telling the cops that I paid you to get this whole thing moving. So I'm sorry, but as much as I would've liked to keep you around for your lower body strength, I'll just have to hire someone else to clean the pool."

***

If you put a gun to someone's head, there are only two kinds of people who will do anything other than exactly what they are told: psychopaths and trained killers. I will leave it to you to guess which one I am, and which one is more dangerous.

In the split second that Katrina finished her sentence I swept one hand around and swatted the gun aside, while at the same time clenching my other hand into a bear paw gesture and rabbit punching Katrina in the throat; not hard enough to do any real damage, but just enough to have her gasping for air. The gun dropped from her hand and I caught it deftly in mine and pressed it underneath her chin whilst gripping her throat with my other hand.

"Breathe..." I murmured soothingly as Katrina continued to choke, turning pale faced at the magnitude of her mistake.

"Now that was an incredibly stupid thing to do, my dear," I said softly, dropping my fake American accent for my more sinister British one, "wouldn't you agree?"

"P...please...don't kill...my daughter." Katrina pleaded between breaths.

"Why on Earth would I do that?" I replied with perfect upper class British elocution, "She didn't try to shoot me or plot to stage my murder as an act of self defence. You on the other hand..."

"But...I'm pregnant...with your child." Katrina continued to beg while still struggling to catch her breath through her temporarily collapsed throat.

"Are you really, Kat?" I asked her, lowering the gun down to her belly, "Because at the right angle, a bullet can be made to pass straight through the womb and out the other side, missing all the internal organs major blood vessels, and thereby killing the embryo whilst leaving the woman alive." A look of pure horror spread across Katrina's face as she absorbed my claim and the feigned knowledge of biology upon which it was based.

"No, please don't do that," she pleaded, genuine tears welling up in her eyes, "either kill me or leave me alone, but I'd rather die than live through that; and you'll never forgive yourself if you kill your own unborn child."

"You're right," I said immediately, taking the gun off her belly, "just a Solomon's test."

In spite of the menacing situation that had brewed, and in spite of the fact that I was now holding a pregnant woman at gunpoint, the closeness of our bodies was starting to make me horny again. Katrina's surgically enhanced cleavage was on display through her bathrobe and the hem of her robe only reached down to her knees, leaving her bare legs on display, to say nothing of the fact that she was naked underneath. The rapist in me took charge.

"Clearly there's no place for the pool boy in your rosy future life with Zoë, but the sperm bank would like to make one last deposit before he leaves. Get on the bed and don't make a sound." I commanded menacingly, and pushed Katrina away from me. She stumbled backwards and landed harmlessly onto her back.

Whilst keeping my victim in check with the gun, I undid my shoes and pulled off my shorts and boxers, then motioned for her to strip as well. She did so, slowly and obediently undoing the cord of her bathrobe and removing it from her shoulders before scooting backwards onto the bed, keeping her thighs shut together.

She looked absolutely delicious. Less exercise and more food over the course of a month had given Katrina a truly venusian figure with toned legs and thighs, exquisite child bearing hips with enough flesh on them to sustain the child that was growing within. Her waist narrowed like a guitar, and her belly -- although it lacked a piercing that would have driven me wild with lust -- looked sensuously smooth with her abs only faintly visible now. Her beautiful stomach led up to her buoyant rack with their sizeable areola, crowning her chest in all their artificially enhanced glory. Katrina still had an attractive face and flowing brown hair at 44, and there was a glint of angry defiance mixed in with the fear in her eyes. She was perfect.

"Spread your legs, Kat." I ordered, approaching her with the gun still aimed at her head. Katrina reluctantly spread her thighs, giving me a delicious view of her waxed snatch.

"If I fuck you; will you let my daughter and I go?" asked Katrina hopefully, her normally blunt tone subdued in deference to her soon-to-be rapist and the gun in his hand.

"Firstly, women do not fuck, they get fucked," I responded whilst clambering onto the bed, naked from the waist down, "secondly, after I fuck you, I will do whatever I please; that being said, how well you perform will directly influence whether or not I decide to hurt you or Zoë."

Katrina sat up on her elbows as I approached her, keeping her legs obediently spread. I kept the gun aimed at her in case she planned to knee me; but she didn't try it, and I parked myself between her thighs without incident. She gazed up at me with her big hazel eyes, nervously anticipating what she had enjoyed so much for nearly a month.

"Don't worry, I'll play fair." I wrapped my free hand around Katrina's throat and reached forward, placing the gun on the pillow behind her.

As soon as I released the gun Katrina began to struggle, so I squeezed her throat to choke off her resistance, just enough to allow me to penetrate her freely. Using my free hand, I took hold of my manhood and lined it up with Katrina's hairless snatch, rubbing it up and down her entrance until her juices were flowing. Katrina strained to fight back against me, but didn't dare struggle too hard lest I squeeze her throat again. Instead, she looked at me with a defiant scowl. I looked her straight in the eyes, and thrust forward.

Katrina yelped aloud as I thrust into her for what was probably the final time. I stripped off my shirt and tossed it onto the floor, releasing my grip on Katrina's throat as I did so. She began to struggle again as I proceeded with our last fuck, thrusting into her with mercilessly hard strokes. Katrina continued to fight back, scratching and snarling at me like a mother tigress. I slapped her hands away as I fucked her before grabbing her by the wrists and restraining her. Zoë had been troublesome to subjugate, but at least now I knew where she got her spunk from.